


You Make It So Good I Don't Want to Leave

by slytheringheights



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Head Boy Draco Malfoy, Head Girl Hermione Granger, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Masturbation, One Shot, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-06 02:11:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21218846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slytheringheights/pseuds/slytheringheights
Summary: It's late at night on the Tuesday before the big Potions exam and Draco can't find his textbook. When the Head Boy goes to the Head Girl's door to ask if she's seen his book, he hears the most intoxicating sounds from behind her door.“Oh yes, please. Yes, right there, Draco…”Wait. Was he hallucinating? He must be.“Fuck, yes, Draco, please…”No, that was definitely his name that time. He looked down at himself, stupidly wondering if it was possible that he could actually be inside her room instead of, frustratingly, outside of it.***Classic Heads trope. Smutty goodness.





	You Make It So Good I Don't Want to Leave

**Author's Note:**

> I posted my first, last, last, (and until tonight) only fic 16 years ago. So I am basically a newbie. Go easy on me. Thanks for reading!

Draco checked the bookcases next to the fireplace, under the plushy pillows on the couch, even under the rug of the Heads common room that he shared with Hermione Granger. He couldn’t find his potions textbook anywhere. Did Granger have it?

Taking other people’s books was not really her style—she had plenty of her own!—so he doubted the possibility that she was hoarding potions textbooks in her private room. But he was desperate—if it wasn’t 11 pm on the night before a big exam, he would have retreated back to his room to begin his search again tomorrow.

He crossed the common room, silk pajama bottoms slung low on his lean frame. What little inkling of modesty he had (and it wasn’t much) wondered whether he should have put on a shirt before approaching Granger’s door, but the urgency of his inquiry overruled that small voice. If he succeeded in flustering the Head Girl, then all the better.

He raised his hand in a fist, seconds from bringing his knuckles down on the aged wood doors when he heard it.

Draco paused, turning his head so that his ear was more closely trained on the sounds coming from inside the Head Girl’s bedroom. It couldn’t be…

He heard it again, unmistakable this time. A deep, feminine moan of pleasure.

What, had Granger discovered an exciting new incantation in her Charms homework? He smirked to himself at his own wit.

“Oh, fuck, yes…” came the string of intoxicating murmurings from inside her room.

Draco’s eyes widened, pulling him out of his thoughts. Had he ever heard Hermione Granger swear?

“Oh god, oh god yes…”

He wondered if she was alone or had company. He listened a few seconds longer, focused on identifying other voices—but he heard none. Was Hermione Granger getting herself off on a Tuesday night during exams week? She continued to be full of surprises. His first surprise since living together in the shared Heads dorm was that she consistently extended a moderate level of civility to him, certainly more than he deserved. The second, and most memorable, surprise was the delectably hot body she kept hidden under school robes, a revelation he was only privy to due to one unfortunate incident involving their shared bathroom and a suspicious shortage of towels.

“Oh yes, please. Yes, right there, Draco…”

Wait. Was he hallucinating? He must be.

“Fuck, yes, Draco, please…”

No, that was definitely his name that time. He looked down at himself, stupidly wondering if it was possible that he could actually be inside her room instead of, frustratingly, outside of it. He was confused to find himself still on the wrong side of her giant wooden door.

Was she getting off to thoughts of…him? He was momentarily shocked, but perhaps this was only fair. Thoughts of her—her bouncy, long curls, her impossibly round ass, her sinfully full lips—had helped him reach completion many a night since the start of term (especially since that unfortunate bathroom incident that he had absolutely nothing to do with).

The increasing pace and volume of the moans on the other side of the door shook him back to the present.

“Yes, Draco, I’m so close…”

He absent-mindedly registered that his hand had found its way to his hardened cock, throbbing with every moan escaping through the door.

This was torture. He should be in there, feeling her around him as she found her release. He should be the one making her scream his own name.

Suddenly, she let out a scream—sounding as if it was ripped low from the bottom of her lungs—and then silence. The sudden quiet unsettled him. What now? He can’t just unhear her cries of ecstasy.

He swallowed, trying to regain control of his muscles. Adjusting the thickness jutting out from his silk pants so that his erection was less obscene, he separated himself from the door a few paces to collect his thoughts and slow his suddenly rapid breathing. He raked both hands through his platinum blonde locks, aware now that a mist of sweat had beaded just below his hairline. After a minute, and several deep, controlled breaths, he had regained his calm, clear-eyed about his next move.

He strode back to the wooden door.

Then, fist clenched, he knocked.

“Granger, it’s me. I have a question for you,” he heard himself asking in a huskier tone than he’d intended.

* * *

Hermione’s eyes shot wide open from her brief post-orgasm nap at the sound of the knock. Panic washed over her as she heard Malfoy’s voice. Was that really him? At her door? Oh god, could he have possibly…?

She had remembered to put up her silencing spell, right? Of course she had—she never forgot.

Comforted by this reminder, her heart rate slowed to normal and the panic subsided. With a swish of her wand, she removed any privacy spells she had cast before she had settled in for her nightly ritual.

“I’m coming! Just a minute!” She called. A little breathy, sure, but that could be due to any number of things. She ran through a quick list of excuses in case he asked—she’d been doing yoga, pull ups, sit ups. Yes, any of those were plausible reasons for why she was slightly flushed and out of breath. None of them, though, explained why she was currently naked.

She grabbed the satin robe draped over her bedpost and quickly tied it around her narrow waist. The soft fabric draped easily over her shoulders and fell to the middle of her shapely thighs. She briefly wondered if she should find something with a bit more…coverage…but nixed the idea when she heard another knock reminding her that Draco Malfoy was on the other side of her bedroom door.

With one last calming breath, she swung the door open.

“I said I was coming,” she stated with slight irritation at his impatience. Her eyes lingered a little too long on his bare torso—lean muscle, broad shoulders, exactly the image she sees at night while her hands are between her thighs. She shook the thought away and hoped to Merlin that she didn’t look as flushed as she felt.

“Oh I heard you.” The smirk was there of course, as always, but the glint in his eyes was new. She stiffened, the earlier confidence in her privacy precautions wavering.

He straightened his tall frame from where he had been leaning lazily against the doorframe and stared at her directly with his clear, gray eyes. “I was wondering if you had seen my potions textbook lying around anywhere.” He was still smirking as his eyes darted downward to take in her attire.

She sighed in relief. Thank god. He hadn’t heard anything before. She refocused her attention on his question, made all the more difficult by his dizzying scent—clean, like soap, but spicy. Masculine.

“Hm let me check my books. I grabbed a potions textbook from the common room earlier, but I thought it was mine,” she turned into her room and approached the stack of books piled on her desk. Draco stepped inside after her.

She picked up a purple leather-bound copy near the top of the stack and opened the inside front cover. “I’m so sorry, Malfoy, it looks like I did take your copy by accident,” she said as she turned back around to face him.

He was close, very close. But agonizingly not close enough. She could feel the warmth of his body heat, but felt a chill shiver down her spine. Goose bumps prickled her skin.

“Here you go,” she whispered. His proximity was excruciating. She knew she would need another round of her nightly “routine” once he left.

His eyes remained trained on hers as he took the book from her hand. “Thank you.” His voice sounded hoarse. The smirk was gone, but the glint remained. With his eyes never leaving Hermione’s, he reached behind her to place the book back on her desk. A flash of confusion crossed Hermione’s face.

“I originally came to your door because I was looking for my book…” He took a half step closer. Hermione swallowed, unable to break eye contact. She noticed the glint darken.

“…but then I heard the most delightful sounds coming from inside your room. You really should use silencing spells, Granger. You never know who might overhear you.” The smirk was definitely back now.

She groaned and finally shifted her gaze away from him to roll her eyes at her own stupidity. “I normally employ a whole host of privacy spells! I just forgot tonight.” She looked away, her flush of arousal darkening to the precise shade of crimson that indicated intense embarrassment.

“Do you mean to tell me,” he whispered, stepping still closer, “that you fantasize about me pleasuring you—and pretty successfully from the sound of it—often?” His lips lingered now just inches from her ear, his breath warming the sensitive curve of her neck, sending tingles down her body. She felt the sensations pool in her core, belatedly realizing that her knickers were on the other side of the room where she had stripped them off an hour before. She could feel the slickness threatening to crest and drip down her inner thighs.

“Yes,” she shamefully whispered. “I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable.” She could barely speak. This unholy mixture of humiliation and arousal setting her nerve endings on fire. Why was he standing so close? Was this his perverse way of making her suffer? Angry, embarrassed, and impossibly horny, Hermione felt drunk on the potent cocktail of emotions swirling inside of her.

Then he let out a low chuckle in her ear. “Oh I definitely feel some discomfort right now, Granger, but I think you can help with that.” He shifted slightly and then she felt something hard, long, and taut spring up between them. His hands settled to the desk behind her, his arms caging her in.

She reached between them, wanting to make sure this was what she thought it was. She had assumed she set her normal privacy wards up tonight. She had assumed no one could hear her scream as she brought herself over the edge. She no longer trusted her own assumptions.

She gasped as her fingers grazed the bare, stretched skin, and then encircled a thick, hard shaft. He groaned deeply before resting his forehead against hers, his eyes shut and breaths shallow. With a firm grip, she stroked him up to the head, swiping her thumb across the tip where a pearl of moisture had beaded, before sliding her hand back down to the base. Thick. Hard. Long. And, just as she had imagined, ready for her.

Her mind jolted, working to piece this new information together. The object of her nightly fantasies was now here, in her room, rock hard in her hand, and seemingly open to turning those fantasies into a reality. She inhaled shakily as she felt her pulse quicken at the realization. She had envisioned him coming to her countless nights before, ever since they began living together in the Heads’ dorm. He was studious, courteous, gorgeous, and, if the rumors were true, seductively generous. Thinking he would never entertain the thought of even touching her, she satisfied herself well enough with a formidable stock of toys, charms, and scented mood candles.

Coming to his own senses, Draco lifted his forehead from hers and locked eyes with Hermione once more.

With mutual recognition of the universal signs of lust, their lips collided fiercely. One of Draco’s hands sunk into the loose curls near the nape of her neck, steadying her movements and drawing her impossibly nearer. Her one hand, previously preoccupied with Draco’s length, slid up his abs and rested on his chest. The other snaked around to his backside, settling on his perfectly toned rear. Hermione had dreamt about exploring his body, finding out how his muscles felt under her fingers. Even if they stopped right now, she could still commit the feel of his body to memory. Frustrated by the silk fabric blocking her, she yanked his pajama bottoms down, so she could feel him, skin to skin.

Draco’s other hand busied itself with the hastily tied knot at the front of Hermione’s robe. Pulling it loose, his fingers slipped between the satin edges of the garment, caressing her waist gently as his hand moved around to her side. As she squeezed the parts of his body she only knew in her dreams, he gripped her tight, hugging the length of her body against his. She moaned into his kiss, delirious with arousal.

His lips moved across her jawline and down the curve of her neck. “Oh fuck, yes,” she mindlessly panted as she slid her hand into his hair, desperately needing something to hang on to.

“You’ve got a naughty little mouth, don’t you, Granger,” he laughed to himself as his eager fingers pushed the robe off of Hermione’s shoulders, pooling the satin fabric at her feet. He stepped back to look at her.

The cool night air drifted across her exposed flesh, hardening her nipples under his stare. In direct response or not, Draco licked his lips as his eyes took in her body. “Fucking gorgeous,” he muttered before launching himself toward her again. Kissing his way down past her neck and to the tops of her breasts, he flicked his tongue across her painfully erect nipple before closing his mouth around the nub and gently sucking. She gasped, hard, holding her sharp intake of breath, as if keeping in the air would ensure that the pleasure keeps mounting. She grew lightheaded—from the lack of air, or the pleasure, or both—and when Draco’s thumb slipped along the edge of her other nipple, she finally exhaled.

“Shit!” As she let out a string of curses, she felt his smirk widen against her breast.

His mouth was back on the sweet spot below her ear and she could barely comprehend the words he said between licks and kisses, “I fucking love the sounds you make when you’re turned on.” She gasped as he bit down and then soothed his nibble away with his tongue. “And I especially love your dirty little mouth.”

And that’s when she felt his other hand, the one not currently kneading her right breast, graze the inside of her thigh. The back of his knuckles gently caressing the length of her inner thigh, heading for only one possible destination. He growled low in his throat when he was just a few inches from her mound. “You’re already dripping down your thigh.” Before she could register any embarrassment, his finger traced her slit, dipping between her folds. “Do you get this wet every time you think about me touching you?” He slid his slicked fingers up to her clit, circling her sensitive nub slowly. His voice was shaky and his lips hovered over the skin on her neck, his breath tickling the hairs on her skin.

She moaned, deeply. Her mind could not register anything but what his fingers were doing to her. Had he asked her a question? Why was he asking her questions?

“Tell me about these fantasies you have every night, Granger. Is this how you imagined me touching you?” With effort, she opened her eyes. She tried to focus her mind on what he was saying.

“Almost,” she croaked. Swiping away the cobwebs in her head to grasp at some semblance of coherence. She made eye contact and said, with more confidence than she felt, “In my fantasies, you’re touching me…” She bit her lip, summoning the courage to ask for what she wanted, needed. “…with your tongue.”

A flash of lust crossed his features. His clear, gray eyes melted into liquid pewter. His fingers stilled inside of her wet folds. She nearly protested when he slid his hand away from her and up between them. Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he slid his finger, glistening with her juices, into his mouth and pulled it clean from his lips. He groaned. “I knew you’d taste incredible,” he said as he dropped to his knees, lifting one of her shaking legs over his shoulder. He inhaled her scent deeply.

She barely had time to register what was going on when…

“Holy fucking shit!”

He chuckled into her center as she screamed and his tongue returned to its ministrations.

Impossibly good. This felt so impossibly good. He slid his tongue around the circumference of her inner lips, before dipping his tongue a bit deeper into her core. She was leaning on the edge of her desk, one hand dropping to the wood behind her, the other clenched in Malfoy’s blonde hair. She was only mildly aware that her hips were bucking so hard that she was disturbing the precariously tall stack of books behind her. A rapid rotation of pants and “Oh gods” caught in the back of her throat when Draco’s tongue finally swiped up to her clit.

With firm, circular strokes, he relentlessly tongued her most sensitive spot. He grunted as he increased the pace, the vibration sending a jolt of electricity to her already wired nerve endings. She felt a small ball of pressure expand, radiating out from her center, crawling across her stomach, caressing the tips of her exposed nipples, flowing into her arms and legs, and causing her fingers to grip tighter and her toes to curl until they cramped.

“Yes!” She screamed, “right there, Draco, please.”

At the sound of his name on her lips, his fingers dug into her thighs and he licked her faster, harder. Then, knowing she was close, he fastened his mouth around her and—“Fuck yes!”—sucked her clit once.

Twice.

Three times.

She screamed his name as the orgasm ripped through her body – a flash, like lightening, exploding through her. His mouth—his beautiful, talented mouth—still on her licking her through the aftershocks. She absently loosened the death grip on his hair, panting and shaking as she came back to earth.

He stood suddenly and latched his lips on to her neck as his hands snaked around her thighs to lift her up. She locked her weak jelly legs around his slim waist, still moaning from the tremors as they slowly faded from her body. Then she felt the soft cushion of the mattress under her back, and her consciousness slowly began to return.

“You taste so fucking good,” he murmured as his head bent to capture her lips with his. She could taste herself on his tongue, which unexpectedly excited her. She deepened the kiss, eager for more of him. More of her on him. He shifted his weight on top of her, nestling between her opening legs. She instinctively drew her legs up the backs of his thighs, pressing his body still closer to hers.

He broke the kiss, wiping the sweat-drenched curls from her forehead, and stared into her eyes. No smirk, no glint. Just openness, and maybe a small fleck of vulnerability. She was wondering why he was stopping. She couldn’t fathom stopping right now. He couldn’t possibly want to stop.

“Can I feel what it’s like to be inside you?”

“Yes, fuck yes. Preferably immediately. Please,” she rambled.

* * *

Draco lined himself up, moderately aware that he was going to remember this moment for the rest of his life. He dipped his tip in, resolving to savor the first thrust, the stroke that will change him. Ruin him. Save him.

“Don’t tease me, Draco. I need it.” Hermione moaned, looking up at him with her caramel-colored eyes. Her brow furrowed, looking at him with concern, anticipation, desire.

Her sounds, her eyes, her perfect body. His resolve shattered, he slid his cock slow and deep into her welcoming warmth. He clinched his eyes, first in disbelief and then in pleasure. How could she possibly be this tight, this wet. A perfect fit.

She sighed. As if the feeling of him stretching her, filling her completely gave her a sense of relief. Peace. Like he was never supposed to be anywhere else but there inside of her.

He remembered his task at hand and moved, slowly pulling out, feeling the shaft of his cock caress the deepest insides of Hermione Granger, everywhere, all at once. The cool air danced across the thin layer of wetness coating his length, sending a shiver down his spine. He slid back in, retreating into her warmth with as much gratitude as he would feel jumping back under the warm bedcovers on a winter day. 

“God, you have no idea how good you feel,” he whispered, his eyes rolling back as he thrust back in.

Hermione moaned and arched her back off the mattress. Draco was now eye-to-nipple with one of his increasingly favorite parts of her. He ran his tongue around the edge of her breast, intending to take as much time as he wanted. She gasped, then whimpered, desperate for release again.

Her legs squeezed him tightly to her, as if she was worried he would leave at any time. He smiled inwardly. That would be impossible.

Her thrusts met his, encouraging him to speed up. “Yes,” she panted in his ear. “Please. Just like that.”

The sounds this witch made had him sweating.

He reached down between them, his thumb finding her clit. He was close, and he was determined to feel her walls quake around him before he came.

He intended to start caressing her clit slowly, but his own movements became frantic, his thumb rubbing her determinedly.

“Oh god,” she spoke low from her belly and her hand zoomed into his hair, grasping for him as she would a life jacket when thrown overboard. “Oh god.” Her voice slightly higher this time.

And then he felt it. Felt her break, shatter apart with a scream. He returned his hand to the bed for more support – he suddenly didn’t trust himself not to crush her. He thrust back in, pulling out as her walls pulsated around him, as if her body was coaxing his climax from him.

He thrust once more and stilled when he was sheathed to the hilt, his release, finally, coating her inner depths. His upper body convulsed from the surge of energy that shot through his veins. He dropped his head to Hermione’s shoulder, trying desperately to catch his breath. He stayed inside her warmth, not yet ready to return to a world where he was not completely enveloped by her.

He could hear her breathing return to normal and felt her hands soothingly stroke through the damp strands of his hair. He lifted his head and reluctantly slid out of her and moved to her side. His thumb caressed the underside of her breast. He didn’t want to stop touching her, exploring her, yet.

She exhaled raggedly and searched his eyes for insight on what he was thinking. The smirk appeared on his face despite his best efforts.

“So, did reality live up to the fantasy? If I heard correctly before, imaginary Draco only made you come once. I may have him beat.”

She scoffed and shoved him playfully. “Well you know what they say about quality not quantity…” But she couldn’t hide the glint in her eye.

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realize imaginary Draco could also make you scream obscenities at the top of your lungs.”

“Well, you can always try again next time,” and now she was smirking. The little tart was smirking at him!

“I insist on a rematch.” His eyes darkened as his hand slid down between her thighs, the exam tomorrow long forgotten. His potions textbook abandoned. His fingers found her folds, still wet. Or wet again?

Her breath hitched and she made a small noise of surprise and pleasure. Her eyes stayed on his, searching for a clue for what he would do next.

He dipped his head down to hover just above her ear. “You know,” he whispered, stroking her with his deft fingers. “The real you was better than any of my fantasies.” She gasped as he slipped a finger inside her entrance, her brow crinkling in confusion. “And I have had many. So many,” his finger still working her.

“Bending you over the couch in the common room,” he continued, kissing her neck. “Lathering you up before I fuck you against the shower tiles,” he kissed her neck again. “Licking your pussy on your favorite table in the library until you scream,” he kissed her, deep, on the lips. She moaned despite herself.

“But my fantasies didn’t take into account how absolutely, perfectly tight,” he slipped another finger in, “your beautiful cunt is.” His tongue lightly brushed one of her nipples. So light, it was almost an illusion. “Or how fucking erotic you sound when you are about to come.” His tongue grazed the other nipple.

“Fuck,” she exhaled. She looked curious, desperate. Entranced.

He rolled them over so that he was on his back and she was, somehow, wondrously, straddling him. His cock once again stiff, thick. And ready.

“That’s the idea, Granger,” he said with a wink.

She rubbed herself across his length, coating him in her arousal. He groaned, as his hands caressed up her thighs to grip her waist.

She smiled, and he could see she knew that she had the power now. Know it all.

Her eyes gleamed as she lifted her hips and lowered herself onto his expectant cock. He bit his lip, trying to hold in his cry of satisfaction.

“Will you promise me something,” he breathed out, trying to sound calm and serious. She stopped rocking her hips and leaned down so they were nose to nose.

“Depends on what it is,” and looked tremendously pleased with herself.

“Promise me, that you’ll come to me, real me, first, before letting imaginary Draco take care of you.” He spoke quietly, afraid to break the fragile bond they had initiated tonight. He tried to convey his sincerity with his eyes. His hand reached for hers, threading their fingers together.

She looked at him for several moments, most likely, he assumed, to ensure he wasn’t playing her.

“I promise,” she whispered as her hips began to rock again, picking up speed.


End file.
